


Afternoon Rush

by 1V1



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Dates, Bad Flirting, Cliche Dates, Crush at First Sight, Dark Humor, Dry Humor, F/M, Flirting, Humor, IW fix, Magic, Mythology - Freeform, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-snap, Sarcasm, Slice of Life, Tall Dark and Mysterious, attempts at romance, fighting destiny, fighting fate, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 13:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15535101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1V1/pseuds/1V1
Summary: Vicky is a 25 year old shift manager at a downtown eatery. Her life consists of rude New Yorkers, rude tourists, and even ruder delivery drivers. So, she tends not to be the most friendly face off hours. Or on hours. Either way when the Avengers arrive for a post mission meal Vicky gets caught up taking the worst order for a lunch special ever, and this in turn leads her to a single goal.Managing to survive being the object of attention from one mischievous god who's got a little thing for rebellious mortals and even more rebellious women.





	1. That time we had to call the cops but not really

**Author's Note:**

> '1v1, you ALREADY have stories needing to be finished!'  
> I do and yet here I am welcome to my hell that is idea-fest.

There was nothing fun about the afternoon shift. It was long, filled with nothing but irate customers, and nobody ever tipped well. As a barista, one expected this in downtown New York City. Hell, one should expect the irate nature of New Yorkers, but, the afternoon shift variety of New Yorkers left something to be desired entirely. As far as the crew of ‘Big Easy Eats’ was concerned, the afternoon shift was absolute shit, and you only survived by building up a wall of pure spite to counter the acidity of customers who felt that $5 was too much for a quick and plain grilled cheese.   
Even if that grilled cheese and soup combo got them the five star yelp rating but no, fuck actual people having to make a living, $5 was still ‘too expensive’. Which was the entire situation at exactly 3:26 pm when a rather skinny white woman with her 2 kids who kept trying to climb the glass display case was yelling about.   
It was the kind of situation that would make any service worker debate the merits of walking out on a job right before the rush.

“It says FIVE dollars! Five! I asked for extra cheese which is just more of the same so WHY is MY SANDWHICH costing FIVE FIFTY?” The woman’s yelling was high pitched; From her jeans, to her top and the knockoff designer gold jewelry on her neck and wrists, along with the comically large wedding ring, Vicky was 100% certain that the woman was either upper middle class, or, was a trophy wife who simply hadn’t any taste when it came to dressing herself and her husband was maybe a lawyer or some such other legal nonsense. She was the quintessential Susan or Carol of modern day entitled white women and as a aging millennial, Vicky was at that point of just telling Rich in the kitchen to spit in both her kid’s grilled cheeses.   
But the kids, while unrestrained menaces, were still kids, and were not the ones yelling at her over fifty cents.  
“Ma’am, it says very clearly on the menu the cost of additional items-“  
“It’s just CHEESE! It’s not additional if it’s already there!” Vicky didn’t know how to explain to a woman the laws of physics and how items didn’t just manifest out of nothing but then Vicky was only paid a basic 10.26 an hour. And that was without tips. Being a shift lead sucked. No tips, and she had to field the crazy soccer moms. Screamy Stacy here certainly fit the soccer mom bill. She probably drove a ford Focus too. 

“Ma’am. I don’t make the rules. Extra cheese is fifty cents more. If you don’t want extra cheese, then that’s fine.”  
“No! You’re trying to upcharge me, I want to speak to a manager!” While Jessica Park the Screamasaures Rex went off about how Vicky was a bad employee and that she was going to leave a negative yelp review, the bell on the front door rang with that annoying brass ding, and a span of time passed before the metallic thud of the door followed. Big group entered, Vicky surmised, a cluster of dark figures just out of her peripheral vision.  
“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME? I WANT TO SPEAK TO A MANAGER!”

It was not even 5 yet, and Vicky felt an oncoming migrane.   
“Ma’am, our manager isn’t here, and if he was, he’d tell you the sam thing.”  
“How DARE you! I demand to speak to whoever is in charge!”  
“That would be me Ma’am.” Murmurs from the group who had nestled in the corner, most of them looked middle of the road, not professionals but certainly not badly dressed. One of them had gotten up and lingered just off the side, as if ready to speak up.  
“No! I want your manager’s number! I want the name of the business owner! I-“  
“Miss.” Vicky gave up. Her kids had left greasy finger prints all over the display case, and one was attempting to steal one of the prepackaged cookies. So much for the innocence of children.  
“My brother owns this place. His boyfriend is the manager and I’m the shift leader. When I tell you extra cheese cost fifty cents extra it’s because it costs fifty cents extra. Since that’s too expensive for you however, please leave.”  
“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT-“ Her kid pocketed the cookie. Vicky figured that the fat lady had sung and it was this suburban mom’s death knell.   
“Also your kid just stole one of the cookies. If you don’t pay for it I’ll call the cops and report the theft because frankly you’ve yelled at me for roughly seven minutes and I’m really just done with this whole shebang.”  
Vicky lied. Vicky lied though her damn teeth just like how she lied about if the pastrami was good. It was okay, not good, and it was certainly not her favorite, no matter how many people expected her to endorse it religiously when asked. However, Vicky was also a woman who knew that if it came down to it, her boss would back her up, because the rule of thumb was if the customer went off for over five minutes, you could tell them to fuck off.  
Politely.

The woman looked ready to call the bluff. Vicky half hoped she would. Honestly, she just wanted the woman gone but the tiny part of her that was ready to thrown down of the fifty cent fiasco was begging for the chance to just wreck the woman’s day.   
“He brought it when he came in. How dare you accuse my child-“  
“Hector, hand me the phone.” The woman was outraged, and Hector, poor 17 year old Hector, who just wanted a summer job that paid enough so he could fund his videogame addiction meekly retrieved the store phone and put in into the waiting palm of Vicky.

That’s when blonde the man just outside of ground zero of mommy meltdown stepped in.  
“Ma’am, please, you don’t need to call for the cops. I’ll pay for the kid’s cookie.” How nice of him, Vicky thought, to step in only when the threat of authority came down. He was probably just non-confrontational and well meaning but misguided. No, Vicky held all the rage of a woman making barely enough to support herself on the afternoon shift had and was going to let it go on this crazy white bitch who was now screaming how Vicky was going to be on the news for her atrocious behavior.

With the stare of an emotionally dead food service worker, Vicky dialed 911. Or she would have, had she not purposely hit the 8 key and didn’t know the prompts for emergencies. Too many times having to call the cops on the night shift due to drunks fighting about whatever it was drunks fought about at 11 pm on a Friday night.   
“Emergency.” The word made the woman’s tired waver.   
“Hi, My name is Vicky DuMont, I’m at the corner of westhill and main in the café Big Easy Eats. I have a woman here screaming and threatening me and my staff. Her child also has stolen product which she refuses to pay for and we have video proof of the act as well as an eye witness.” For added effect, Vicky pointed at the security camera on the ceiling. The woman had gone quiet.  
“Yes, Mhm. She has cursed at myself and my staff and we feel threatened and that she is a danger both to myself and her children with her irrational and erratic behavior. Mhm, yes, that’s correct. Uh-huh.” As Vicky pretended to verify the information the woman had her rage reignited at the fact she believed Vicky was following through not just on her threats, but was making a report against her. She yelled something about taking the buck fifty for the shitty cookie, slammed one dollar and fifteen cents on the counter, grabbed her kids and stormed out the door making a point to slam it as hard as she could.  
Which only made Vicky grin when the door refused to slam but rather glided shut as it was made to do. Not missing an opportunity to feel mildly smug about the situation, Vicky let out a very audible ‘Bye Felica’. 

Pulling the phone away from her face, Vicky could physically feel herself age ten years however.   
Crazy New Yorkers did that to you sometimes.  
“Sorry about that sir.” She looked at the would be helpful bystander.   
“Did you just hang up on 911?” His blue eyes were wide in concern. Vicky just snorted back a laugh.  
“No. Never called them in the first place.”  
“What?”  
“High School Theater may have been over five years ago but I didn’t spend my winter break in a corset reading Macbeth for nothing. Anyway, your order is on the house. I’m going on break, Hector-“ She looked to the poor teen, who was busy staring wide eyed at the group in the corner, his phone snapping pictures while said group posed. Youtubers? Celebs? If they were celebs they had bad luck to come into a rather base establishment as Big Easy Eats.  
“Hector, stop playing mincraft for like, fifteen and take the dude’s order. Anyway sir, thanks for stepping in, but it’s all Gucci.”  
“Vicky-“ Hector looked like he was about to piss himself. “Vicky please don’t leave me on the register I can’t-“  
“Why?” Rich, beloved cook Rich who had never done a damn thing wrong in the whole year and 8 months Vicky had been working at the café aside from that one time he accidentally set the dumpster on fire which no one ever spoke of, popped his head out and said in his soft spoken voice of a man raised in the deep south-  
“Café.” Which translated from Rich speak to ‘Vicky look at the café, something’s got Hector in a tizzy and the poor lad an’t used to this. Have mercy on him will ya?’ Vicky was good at navigating Rich speak.

What Vicky wasn’t good at was compartmentalizing. Or thinking things through when irate and really just wanting to go on her break.   
So when she looked out at the café, following Hector’s gaze, she just stood in a mild stupor as her brain processed what her eyes were telling her were there.

Sitting at the large corner booth were the avengers. Or, a decent number of them anyway. Stark was easy to spot, as was the infamous Dr. Banner. Followed by a woman known as the Scarlet Witch, and a very large muscled blond she guessed was Thor, and… some guy in the far corner, Vicky looked back at blond blue eyes who’s offered to pay for the kid’s cookie.  
“Well fuck.” She managed to say as captain America have a half hearted smile.  
She wasn’t paid enough to deal with this. She was due for her break. Megan the crazy mom had drained her and frankly?  
“Hector just.. take the damn dude’s order. I’m going on break.” The migraine had arrived.  
“Vicky-“ Hector’s plea fell on semi deaf ears. All Vicky could hear was the lure of 15 minutes in the back room with blessed silence. 

Pulling off her apron, setting it on the hook, Vicky made her way to the backroom, barely catching the voice of a man she couldn’t place.  
“Well, that was certainly entertaining. Are all Midgardian establishments like this?” 

She hoped that they tipped well. Hector deserved it.


	2. That Time We Risked Our Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vicky does something stupid, and Loki proves he's not as silver tongued as he seems.

The break lasted only 12 minutes. 12 minutes of blissful calm in the back, smoking a cigarette and pretending she didn’t just blow off to the heroes of the known universe. Lacking any energy to become properly anxious about it, she had just willed herself into a calm state.  
Which lasted 12 minutes. Then, poor Hector came into the back, looking like he’d seen a ghost and begging for help because he wasn’t sure how to handle one of ‘their’ orders.  
“Explain the issue Hectogon, not all of us are there to witness the sun shitting magnificence of your icons.”  
The boy nodded, “Uh, one of them wants smoked ham and we only have turkey and he says it’s not good enough and demands we smoke ham for him.”  
“And his buddies aren’t like, telling him to fucking deal with it and not take it out on basic ass workers who have no control over what we get?” Hector nodded and Vicky wanted to go out and slap them. Some heroes. She’d been younger when the attack on New York happened. When Hulk had gone batshit, when the spandex spider-man took down some arms dealers and smugglers- It was life in New York now. You couldn’t throw a rock and not encounter some weird shit at least once.

“Okay.” She groused, getting up from her spot. “I’ll deal with super douche and you just... clean and help Alex I guess.” The boy didn’t need to be told twice, darting off to do just that.  
Going back out to the front, seeing a man in a suit, slicked back hair and a glare that could kill a man, Vicky braced herself for what she guessed was going to be the stupidest thing she’d ever done.  
“So.” She drawled, going up to the register, exactly opposite of the man, “what seems to be the issue?”  
She looked at him a bit closer, his eyes seeming to find a twisted joy in his actions and the distress he’d caused poor Hector. Vicky didn’t like him already, hero or not.  
“As I told the boy, I want smoked ham. Turkey is dry and tasteless.”  
“Unfortunately sir, we only have smoked turkey, so you’ll have to pick a different lunch meat.” The glare made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck but Vicky was not anything if not stubborn. She’d faced busses full of hungry teens, soccer moms, tourist groups, that weird Thor worshiping cult that kept asking for her to sign up for their newsletters every Thursday at the corner on the sidewalk. She could handle one irate Avenger.

“That is unacceptable. Your menu lists smoked ham.”  
“Our Menu is dependent on our stock sir,” Vicky pointedly enunciated the sir to emphasis her patience was running thin, “and as is, we are out of smoked ham.”  
“Then your dining establishment has false advertising.”  
“It is not false if we claim to have it always, and if you look at our about section, we state we source ethically and locally, meaning our stock items change. It is not false advertising, as we do have it, just not at this exact moment.”  
The man’s green eyes remained fixed on her, glaring, but they didn’t seem to hold malice.  
“And so what compensation will I get for your lacking?” He honestly thought she would yield. Tough luck asshole, Vicky thought, you’d have to do better than missing lunch meats to merit a free meal.  
“Me allowing you to remain in the restaurant and get something else.”  
He reeled back, shock easy on his face. From the corner of her eye, she saw his companions also reeling, and Thor looking like he’d just won the lottery.  
“I beg your pardon?”  
“Sure. Pardoned.”  
“Excuse-“  
“Also excused. Look. We don’t have your smoked ham, and I’m not one to tolerate harassment of my staff or attempts to weasel a free meal out of me just because you can’t get what you want. You’re buddy buddy with a billionaire, who’s sitting just over there. You can afford to pay, and unless you are allergic to something, which I know you’re not because those with allergies always state so before they order out of habit and necessity, you can omit smoked ham.”  
“Do you know who you are speaking to?” He stood a bit taller, and made a point to add the edge of a threat to his voice.  
“No.” Vicky deadpanned, causing him to reel a second time. “And frankly? I don’t give a fuck. You can save the world, but the world will keep trudging on even if we all die. Life’s short, I don’t get paid enough, and if you want to order, order, or get the hell out.”  
There was a pregnant pause as no one spoke, and the entire place was silent, save for Alex in the back cooking as he always did.

“You’re either brave or foolish.” He finally spoke, no longer glaring more inspecting if Vicky had to label how he looked at her.  
“Better to be both and become bold, then cower and yield to those who would abuse their power.”  
“You’re eloquent.” The compliment is left field, but Vicky’d take it.  
“Thanks. Helps deal with men like you.”  
His smile was sudden, and Vicky got the impression that it had been the wrong thing to say.  
“There are no men like me.”

That’s when Vicky made the first worst mistake of her life.  
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

The man laughed, genuine, full belly laughed, and his avenging companions no longer looked shocked, but more terrified. Vicky didn’t know why.  
“Only to women who are worthy of my notice.” From demanding free meals to flirting, the man was trying Vicky in ways she was certain would have made a lesser food service worker wilt. She didn’t get to become a shift supervisor for nothing.  
“Cute. But you haven’t ordered anything yet, and I want to get on my break and you know, enjoy it. So could we get this show on the road?”

The man, green eyes bright with mirth like he knew some great joke, smiled. “A cup of your tomato bisque and a side salad, dressing on the side.” A cursory glance to Alex told Vicky he’d heard the order, his thumbs up all the confirmation she needed.  
“Great, anything else?” Her second mistake.  
The man looked at her and for a second, she thought she saw Thor tense behind him back in their little party in the corner.  
“Yes.” His voice took on a buttery smooth quality. The kind Vicky had used on her when guys at the club wanted to get in her pants. Alarm bells were ringing as she finally yielded a fraction, leaning back when he leaned forward.  
“I’d like you.”

Her mouth moved before her brain could filter anything.  
“What?”  
Behind the man, Thor was moving, looking stricken with worry. Yet the man only smiled, not paying any mind to the alien avenger.  
“Just as I said, I’d like you. Your number will suffice for now though, dear Vicky.” He purred her name, and she felt her body betray her, a blush rising to her cheeks. “It’s not often a woman challenges and is so bold with me.” His reached out and Vicky snapped.

“Sorry, I’m gay.” The best defense, because if he pressed he was an asshole, if he backed off, he still lost because she’d clearly said she’d not have interest in him.  
Those green eyes lit up and he laughed, even when Thor grabbed his shoulder.  
“Liar.” That purr again, but this time, Vicky was ready for it, forcing a scowl onto her face.

Thor came to her rescue. If one could call it that. “Brother, leave the lady be. She is not fond of your attentions.”  
That’s when Stark called from the group, “Come on Rock of Ages, She’s not into you. Your flirting didn’t get you a meal now sit down already. I don’t want to explain why we’re banned from another place to Pepper.”

That’s when it clicked.  
Vicky stared at the man with green eyes and slicked back hair. With his humored eyes, and threatening smile.  
“As I said dear Vicky, you’re quite bold and I rather like it. More, I think I like you.”

Vicky stared and made her third and worse mistake yet. The one that would set into motion the events she’d come to hate for the next several weeks.  
“You know, I think I changed my mine.” They all gave her a curious look. Vicky was a woman who lived through an alien invasion, the financial collapse, wall street fucking everyone over, her ex boyfriend fucking her cousin, minimum wage for 3 years and also had dealt with a death threat from a crazy white supremacist for refusing to make a black family leave the restaurant. Vicky had dealt with her fair share of shit in her life, and when faced with the renowned ex-terrorist and reforming Avenger, she wasn’t one to back away from him and his thinly veiled threats, even if all logic said she should have.  
“I will give you something.”  
“Oh?” Loki pulled out of Thor’s hold and leaned in, going well over the counter when Vicky crooked her finger at him, inviting.  
Leaning to him, whispering in his ear Vicky was the one grinning.

“My thanks.” Loki had only the chance to give her a confused look before she reared back and punched him square in the nose.  
“And to make clear, that’s not for New York, that was for upsetting Hector and being a prick.”

 

She’d stormed to the back fuming, and apparently Loki and co. had left after getting their meals, the raven haired god looking sullen and rightly put out. Stark had said no one was going to say a thing, as they all found it very funny; Thor had wanted to apologize on Loki’s behalf, (and Alex had blessedly dissuaded him). The tip? $300 bucks. Making a total $100 for Vicky, Alex, and Hector each. The three of them agreed to not speak of anything that happened, and secretly pocketed the cash without recording it. Taxes were a bitch. 

 

Vicky felt a little bad for punching him, because she’d risked her job over it should her bosses find out, and because despite it all, his actions hadn’t merited a punch to the nose, (which had left her with a sore and bruised set of knuckles). She almost wanted to apologize to him. Almost. Instead, she reconciled she’d never see him again so that was that. The day she met Loki, The God of Mischief, had come and gone and her life would keep turning as it always had.

At least until 5pm the next day, when he showed up again grinning and coming up to her at the counter.  
“I know exactly what I want now.”

Vicky felt her heart drop into her stomach.

Loki was back.


	3. That time we ordered from the Secret Menu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki enjoys various soups, and Vicky realizes she might have a thing for accented voices.

A week passed with minimal changes to the routine. Daily. 5pm, on the dot. Soup of the day plus house salad. Dressing on the side with added chopped walnuts. Mineral water- the fancy kind that came in a green glass bottle and cost more than what was decent. 

Vicky hated the fact she had memorized his order. She hated the fact that every day, he showed up, a smirk on his face, knowing you could do nothing, say nothing lest he make the first offense. Each day, he would come up, purring her name like he knew her, and without missing a beat, would ask her what her honest thoughts were on the day’s soup. The first time, she lied, and he had chuckled remaindering her one of his titles as god of lies. It was one time, and ever since, she didn’t bother. He wanted honesty, he got honesty. Just why half the time she didn’t speak.  
If you can’t say anything nice if you don’t say anything at all.  
Her mother would have been proud of her.

Each time she let slip something personal, she noticed how his smile would widen just a fraction, as if he was studying her, collecting notes like some kind of stalker. Vicky couldn’t prove it but that’s the feeling she got.  
So far, each time something slipped, it had been when he asked her opinion on the soup. 

Tuesday- Clam Chowder. He found out that she preferred seafood to red meats.  
Wednesday- Minestrone. Her favorite herb was rosemary.  
Thursday- Beef Chili. She let slip that she played violin at a community center after her shift. The worst secret she’d mistaken let him find out. In turn, he did tell her that he was avoiding his brother. Apparently when you were a divinity, a day named after you tended to inflate an ego. Who knew.  
Friday- French Onion. She’d never been to France. He asked if she wanted to. Vicky admitted she did.  
Saturday- Split Pea. He now knew her favorite color was blue.  
Sunday- Lobster Bisque. Her favorite soup that was actually good. After his meal, he’d come up, thanking her for her honesty recommendation.  
Monday- Taco soup. He learned that she was single. His smile had nearly been the death of her.

All the little bits of information that he learned were accident, Vicky told herself. It was a part of just her thing. You answered and you were in customer service mode, so you tried to be personable. Whatever he was playing at however, Vicky didn’t like it. Possibly because she didn’t know why. Aside from being minorly creepy, the god of mischief seemed perfectly happy, content even, to chose to frequent the café, and more, to make a point of smiling when he saw her. 

Just why as the first week came to an end, she was glad to finally have a day off. Two of them in fact. In a row no less. No gods to harass her at work, making her flush when they purred her name in that all to charming accent they had. While Vicky hated to admit, a part of her was flattered by his attention, (he was fairly attractive after all), she wasn’t an idiot. She’d punched him. Men like him only came back to string a girl along with being ‘reformed’, or they got off on that sort of thing. And she strong suspected that he intended to humiliate her as she had done to him.

It was a fate she resigned herself to.

The days off were nice, but when she came back Thursday, she heard what had happened in her absence. He’d shown up, and upon finding her missing, had seemed angry. Hector had been working both days a relayed the details. He’d come in, looking expectant, then his expression had downright dropped when he didn’t see her. He’d even asked where she was. Hector, blessed boy, had said it was her day off. He’d also not told him when she’d be back. To that, the god had answered, ‘I suppose I will simply have to be patient then.’  
Yeah, totally not creepy or stalker-esque. But when the second day of her being gone came about, he’d sulked. Hector swore by it. The man had ordered, and sulked in the corner. And unlike every other time, he’d not left a tip. In fact, both days gone, he’d not tipped. Unlike when she worked, and a fat fifty dollar bill was shoved into the jar as if reminding them he was still royalty.

The fact he was very obviously coming to the café to see her was not exactly great, but, what could she do. As far as her bosses were concerned, if word got out the Avenger ate there, it could drum up sales. So to her boss? Vicky was to obviously should keep doing whatever it was she did that kept him interested. She didn’t have the guts to admit it had probably been punching the man.

Now, two minutes to five, Vicky dreaded what was coming. And like clockwork, the bell rang, and in strode the man who’s existence served only to draw her ire and trepidation.  
Loki.

“Good afternoon.” She greeted, as was mandatory. Today, Hector was off, as was Alex. Today’s help was Rebecca for bus-person, and Miguel as the chef. Miguel who didn’t know when to not stick his nose into things. Miguel who’s eyes she could feel burning the back of her head.  
“I missed you these past days dear Vicky.” There it was, the purr. If she’d been a weak woman, her panties would have gotten wet. As it was, she was to cautious around him to feel anything else.  
“I was off.”  
“So I was told. But, I am glad to see you again.” The smile went from mischievous to something…soft. Almost affectionate.  
“What would you like today sir?” Loki’s tongue poked out of his lips wetting them.  
“I do so like it when you call me sir. As for today- surprise me.”  
She’d been expecting another soup order with salad. Not a damn come on and a request. 

The red that filled her face had Loki’s grin a knowing one. He was good, the damn seductive prick.  
“Alright.” She said, mind going over the options. “Do you like spicy foods?” It was a personal question.  
Loki hummed for a moment. “If they are for flavor rather than heat for the sake of heat, yes.”  
Vicky now knew what to give him. But-  
“Understand, if you don’t like it, you cant get a refund. It’s on you, not me.” Loki to his credit nodded.  
“I want to see what you think of me.”  
A snort left her nostrils. “And having me pick something for you does that?”  
Green eyes seemed to glitter in amusement. “More than you know Vicky.”  
She swallowed the saliva in her throat, eyes darting from his in embarrassment. Vicky hated it, this sudden feeling of being caught having feelings of attraction. He knew it, and he was playing on it.  
“15 flat. You good with milk?”  
“Depends, is it flavored?”  
“No.”  
“Then I will be fine.”

She handed him a bottle of 2% and told him to wait.

A quick chat with Miguel had the dish cooking. She ended up picking the curry chicken on vegetables with naan. It was an off menu item, one the staff and a few regulars knew of. The sauce was coconut milk based, adding a creamy richness to it, and the heat was fairly mild. In fact, the spice was exactly what he’d described- to create a complex flavor profile. The chicken fat was sweet and tender along with the meat. The veggies just that hint of chew, and the naan was just a type of bread the café sold because one of the owners was Indian himself. The whole reason they had it was just that- one of the owners wanted a home dish, a secret menu item that was made for those worth serving it too.

And while she disliked the man, Vicky was not about to give him something she wouldn’t like herself.

Rebecca, (a besotted girl of 19 who was as vapid as she was vain) had thankfully not attempted to flirt with the man when she delivered him the curry. 

Twenty three minutes later, as Vicky was cleaning the coffee pot, Loki tapped on the counter to get her attention.  
“Vicky?” He sounded less hostile than before, so, she decided to not pretend she didn’t hear him, and turned.  
The expression he wore was a mix of pleased and surprised. She was just glad it wasn’t pissed. That would have probably been bad.

“Can I help you?” Her voice betrayed her dead exhaustion. Her shift was going to end soon, and she really didn’t want to get into a verbal sparring match with a god known as ‘silvertongue’.  
“Not really. But, I did want to know- why did you give me that dish- why give me something not on the menu?”  
Ah now that was a question wasn’t it. In truth, she wasn’t sure beyond wanting to give him something that was actually good. She didn’t know his flavor profile, the man liked soups and salads. He was commonly profiled as one of the most secretive of the Avengers for good reason. She gave a shrug.  
“Not sure. At the least I knew I didn’t want to give you something that wasn’t good.” The man, god, hummed, green eyes lingering on her face.

“What time are you off work?” Dread hit her like a freight train. He wanted to know when she was off-  
“Why?” She tried to not sound incredulous. Not to sound leery. But man, she did. He wanted to probably harass her out of work.  
“I thought I was being quite obvious with my intentions this last week.” He sounded cheery, as if he fully expected her to just... tell him.  
“Sorry. I tend to just block out most things that aren’t important.” She expected him to frown at the insinuation that he wasn’t important, but rather Loki seemed even more interested in her.  
“As I said when we met, I like you. You dared to challenge me and are bold with your words and manner. It’s very attractive.” 

Vicky froze like a deer caught in headlights.  
Loki coming every day hadn’t been to annoy her out of spite. He’d been fully honest that first day. He liked her. Found her attractive enough to express an interest and worse- He wanted to follow up with something outside of her work.  
“You what?” She yelped, she honestly yelped in shock of it all. Loki chuckled, looked pleased as a peach.  
“I wish to court you Vicky. But your workplace is not where I would discuss this. I would like to speak to you when you are as I understand ‘off the clock’.”  
“Just- why?” It was surreal. She was a shift supervisor at some basic ass café in New York City. She was nobody. Nothing. 

Loki looked every inch the cat that caught the canary.  
“You’re an attractive woman who speaks her mind and is brave enough to stand up against someone who would abuse their power. You lied that first day to protect yourself and your staff. You were given the blatant invitation to make me regret putting trust in you, and instead, sought to treat me with civility and courtesy. You are… interesting.” He purred. “And it is not often a woman strikes me. That is a very large part of why I find you as attractive as I do.”

Vicky gaped at him. He got off on that?  
“I-“ She blinked owlishly at him. “I get off at 7.” He winked.  
“I will wait outside the establishment then. If you do not wish to meet with me, take your back exit. I will not persue.”  
“You’re-“ She didn’t have words for his audacity. “You really think I’ll say yes?”

The god grinned, white teeth flashing in a charming camera ready smile.  
“No. But if I know you as I think I do?” He dropped the fifty into the tip jar. “I think you’re curious enough to talk.”

And that was how Vicky found out the Loki, God of Mischief liked her.


	4. That time we got Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vicky and Loki talk and clarify a few things.

Vicky was certain she was making one of the worst, if not the worst, decision of her life. It was 7:10 pm, and she was officially off the clock, shift over, time for her to go home. Thing was, she had the option to:  
A) Go out the front door, where Loki, the actual real god of mischief was waiting for her and trying very hard to not peek through the window towards the direction of the staff breakroom or  
B) Take the staff and kitchen exit out the back and avoid the possibility of Loki and his claimed desire to ‘court’ her. 

She waffled about it since he’d told her his intentions. She was flattered, who wouldn’t be after all? A Norse god with diamond cutting cheekbones, a wicked smile and a hell of an accent had told her he was attracted to her. He was being a consummate gentleman in expressing his sincerity of his consideration of her position as a worker and him being both a patron and a male. He gave his word he would honor her decision if she chose to avoid him. And while in a way she had no reason to trust him? She knew, by pure hunch, she could. 

A guy did not just tell a woman his intentions and make clear he wanted to give her a choice and would back off unless he planned to make himself out to be an asshole. And Loki, known for his mantle of ‘mischief’ might be notorious for just that, he wasn’t known for being a sexist pig. It was surreal. It was-  
Twisting a knot in her gut is what it was. He was right- damnably so in how she was curious enough to hear him out. To take that step outside the door. To go with him, maybe, somewhere for a bite to eat? Would it be a date? Fuck if she knew. No one had a manual for this kind of thing. Growling she wished she could go out the back for a smoke, then come back to face the man. But it was 10 past, and she had a hunch he was the kind to want punctuality. Gritting her teeth, Vicky checked that he clothes were decent, she smelled not like the café of body odor, and her hair was tangle free. A final look in the mirror and out the door she went.  
The back door.  
Telling Rebecca to text her where Loki when once she left the building. Almost the second she left the door the teen had said to the right.

And So Vicky went.  
After him that is.

He wanted to control the narrative, keep a handle on whatever was going on. He was being the consummate gentleman but also making a hell of a lot of assumptions of her and willingness to go along with him. No, that wasn’t going to happen. She knew the type. Men who were good and well mannered but had a thing for control of their surroundings. He fit the bill- and the fastest way Vicky would know if Loki was the type to honestly be a concern or the type that was sincere? Throw him off and take part of his control from him.

So when she spun the corner of the building, a cup of lemon water in hand, she stared down the trickster god.  
Who looked as shocked as she felt.

After all, who had the audacity to trick a trickster? The gall to stand up a prince? To nerve to flounce out on a reformed villain? Vicky, that was who.  
“You didn’t really expect me to just take what you said at face value did you?” She stared him down though her heart was beating way to fast to be healthy. The shock on his face was twisted, emotions flickering by too fast for her to sort through them all but eventually, they landed on one.  
Amused.  
“Oh, I do like you.” His voice was sonorous in a way that would make the devil swoon. Thankfully, Vicky dealt with devils that were tourists all day, she was used to it.  
“I should hope so, what with the semi-stalking.” She sipped her drink as he made a small nod, not even disagreeing with her assessment.  
“I admit, it was not my best approach, but I felt it one of the better options. Public, a known place where we both must uphold societal norms, and a place where though as a patron I hold leverage, abuse of it is something easy to ascertain.” The man had a point, and she nodded her head in acquiesce.  
“So you wanted to… er, talk. Right.”  
“Among other things.” His eyes held something in them. A glimmer she realized, of that mischief he was known for. Anger burned as she grabbed onto it.  
“You realize I don’t find this funny you know?”  
Loki smirked at her.  
“You flirting. With me. If you want someone to play arm candy, or get used for some PR stunt, find another girl, because I’m not-“  
“You hit me.” Loki cut her off, stepping closer before motioning for her to walk with him. Strangely enough, she did. 

“I understand your... trepidation of my interest but it is genuine. As I explained in the café- you are bold. You lied for the benefit of others as a means of defense, yet you also have shown a noble civility in the face of uncertainty, and a thoughtful choice in actions. Your braveness to face down others in the name of fairness is also something that is admirable- yet there is a fire in you. You chafe at the restraints you are confined in and break from the norm. You hit me.” His final words annunciated.  
“And so far the list of women who’ve struck me is very small, but all those on it are women I can respect. Yet none of those women lacked power at the time of their assault to not be kept from harm. You, and you alone, stuck me, knowing full well my abilities, and did so anyway.” He sounded like he-

“Holy fuck.” She muttered looking at him. “Holy shit-“ Vicky started to laugh. “You’re a bloody masochist!”  
His own loud laugh is real sounding, genuine. “Oh darling, in part, but my point is that you, unlike nearly every single woman I’ve met so far, every single woman who’s thrown themselves at me- you are willing to challenge me and stand up against me. And that alone, means you are someone I might consider worthy enough to be my…” He frowned, mouth closing then opening.

“Your girlfriend?” She offer, finishing her drink.  
“I dislike the phrase, but yes. Girlfriend. On Asgard it would have been more aligned with consort or intended. There is not exactly an Asgardian equivalent to a lover whom you are not intentionally seeing if they be worthy for marriage.” Vicky shrugged, finally looking to the direction of their walk.  
“So-“ She began. “Is this a date then?”  
“Do you want it to be?” She paused as the crosswalk sign glowed red.  
“Yes.”

His hand grabbed her free one and for a moment Vicky froze.  
“Then I thank you, for being willing to entertain me in my pursuit of courtship Vicky of Midgard.”  
“Uh-“ She looked to their hands. Holding hands. With Loki. Like… they already were a couple.  
“For tonight-“ Loki was smiling and for a second, she could admit, he was handsome when he did so. “Would you mind just walking with me? Have coffee and dessert after?” It’s an unusual request she thought but-  
“You understand, you can’t just… linger at my work you know. If you want to date me you need to uh-“  
His smile was charming, disarming, and Vicky blushed despite her wanting to not consider the whole fact she just agreed to date a fucking NORSE DEITY. 

“I’d prefer to keep this-“  
“You want to keep it from becoming public. Fear of the media I take it?”  
“Can you blame me?” He nodded, understanding. The last woman Loki had involved himself with had been a very public thing- ending when he found out she had been trying to romance Thor, (who’d been the one to tell Loki).  
“I will do my best, though at times we will be shadowed as is my current status is not fully trusted.” Vicky looked behind them and-  
“Are you kidding me?” A man very clearly in a suit that screamed secret agent was tailing them  
“I know, annoying gnats really. They’re doing their job, and it’s not like we can’t lose them with a few simple spells. But they’re on orders to never interfere. Much less contact you. But for the rest of the world- they will see you with another man.”

She blinked. “What?”  
“And illusion. You see me as myself. Others see the illusion I provide. In the café I chose to not use it for obvious reasons. It is best so we might pursue more mundane ‘date’ activities.” He seemed uncertain with the word and Vicky secret relished it.  
“I don’t know why I’m honestly considering this. Saying... yes. I mean, really. I hit you, now you want to date me, and be.. normal?”  
Loki’s entire frame stiffened. “I tire Vicky. I want to enjoy what freedom I have. Women throw themselves at me so it’s not like I lack for lovers. I can debate intellectuals all day. But when faced against me, the cower. They flee and run and flinch. You didn’t. I want someone and at Thor’s advice I decided to try and find someone. And thus far-“ His hand lifted her own to his lips. “You’re the only one who’s met my standards.”

Vicky snorted at the timeless gesture.  
“You’ve got some low standards then Loki.” His eyes seemed to sparkle again when she said his name.  
“No lower than your own, for even thinking I would be idle in having our first date so woefully under prepared.”  
One second she was walking down the street, the next, she was across town in front of Serendipity III. 

“What the-“ Loki dropped her hand and with a motion, held open the door of the almost empty infamous restaurant.  
“If you agree to courtship, I think it only fair you know what to expect.”  
“Did we just-“ She was boggled. Baffled. For one thing, she felt a bit queasy, but was he implying that he had a reservation?  
“Teleport? Yes. Now shall we-“

Vicky gaped at him, then it hit her. He was showing off. He was preening. He was flaunting himself to her in the hopes to shock her and awe her. He was taking back control of the narrative.  
Three steps was all it took before she stood next to him at the doorway.  
“I hope you know I plan to get that thousand dollar dessert on your tab.”  
“No questions about the magic, my audacity at having assumed or planned this for you?”

She smirked this time at him.  
“Why bother? At least this way, I get a thousand dollar sundae for free.”

He laughed as he followed her inside, eyes twinkling with delight.


End file.
